


Melody of Raindrops

by krzed, projectml



Series: Project: Labor Day 2018 [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Married!AU, Music Teacher!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 11:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15193475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krzed/pseuds/krzed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/projectml/pseuds/projectml
Summary: Adrien heads to work with cold fingers, but by the time he gets home, they’re itching to play a song on the piano.





	Melody of Raindrops

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of Project: Miraculous Ladybug's Project: Labor Day, 2018.
> 
> Author  
> Misfire Ezreal - http://misfireezreal.tumblr.com
> 
> Beta  
> krzed - http://krzed.tumblr.com

It is a cold winter day when Adrien sets out for work. He leaves quietly, petting the kitten that follows him curiously to the door. He wears a simple coat, and warm clothing beneath it. His fingers are like ice because he forgot to bring gloves; he shoves his hands into his coat pockets, and gratefully takes a hand warmer from a woman handing them out on a corner street. Despite the cold, there is no snow: the sky is cloudy, but the sun peeks through as it rises to the east, showering Paris in pockets of golden light.

Adrien takes the metro, like everyone else, and the descent into the subway only makes the cold harsher. It is crowded, as usual at this hour, but Adrien doesn’t mind. He makes small talk with a middle-aged gentleman in a suit, talking about the chilly weather and the large morning crowd. Adrien ends the conversation to get onto his train, and offers his spot to a young girl dressed for school. He stands instead, enjoying the turns the train takes that make him strain his muscles to stay upright, to not tilt or fall. When he reaches his stop, he gets off and hurries to the surface, eager to escape the cold. 

He reaches the building and sighs gratefully, and pulls his coat off when he reaches his office, hanging it on his chair. He hurries to the break room and grabs a warm cup of ginger tea. Tea, not coffee, because Mylène is pregnant and is always craving tea, and everyone wants to support her. She is chipper and bubbly this morning, and she and Adrien share stories about the students they share. They’re a small staff, these teachers at Collège Françoise Dupont, but Adrien loves them all, and he loves being a teacher. 

When class starts, Adrien stands on a podium, looking across at his students. He reminds them of the concert they have in a week, and then he gives them a page and measure number and lifts his baton. For the rest of the class, he corrects the mistakes he hears and offers praise to the instrument sections who do well. They talk briefly about the upcoming concert, but Adrien gets side-tracked and tells them a story of his own band experience in lycée. Then the bell rings, and he bids his students farewell, reminding them to practice.

Adrien heads to the music theory room next to teach the students new to music, and he gives them a quiz on modal scales. The students are grumbly after, but Adrien has a way with words, and his smile is contagious, and by the end of class they are sad to see him leave. 

His next class is with the advanced music theory students, and they all groan when he makes music puns. He hands back their homework and review the material they struggled with. Then he tells them to write the chords they hear, and plays a meme-y song. The kids nearly lose their minds, but when he leaves, Adrien knows the kids are wearing bright grins. 

He has a free period now, and takes the time to grade as many of the quizzes as possible before the lunch break.

He heads outside, and Mylène, with a knowing smile, tells him to bring her back a melon tart. Adrien walks across the street and enters the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Tom and Sabine already have lunch waiting, and offer it on the house, as usual. Adrien sneakily slides the money into the tip jar anyways, and then takes the food upstairs, but not before asking Tom to set a melon tart aside for him.

Marinette is late arriving, and when she breezes into the kitchen, it is with a winded apology and an explanation on the tip of her lips. Adrien silences her with kisses to both of her cheeks, and leads her to sit with him. Nonetheless, she still feels the need to give a reason to her late timing.

“Chloe’s father came in to tailor his new tuxedo, and he’s always so talkative, so it took longer than it should have.” Marinette helps herself to the raspberry terrine, and Adrien moves to join her. 

“It reminds you of where Chloe gets it from, doesn’t it?” he asks her with a grin, and Marinette smiles back. 

“Chloe is tame in comparison.” Marinette picks out a slice of raspberry and eats it slowly. “Even she was getting frustrated with him.”

Adrien laughs. “I’m surprised she didn’t bully him into leaving earlier.”

“Oh, believe me, she tried.” Marinette shrugs. “But something came up in public relations, so she had to go deal with that. Leaving me with her dad for another half-hour.”

Adrien shakes his head, chuckling a bit. “What’s the tux for, anyways?”

Marinette let’s out an “mm” as she finishes off the terrine. Adrien polishes off the rest of his food as she answers. “It’s for the Achu consulate’s fifteen year anniversary.”

Adrien’s eyes grow wide. “Fifteen?” He groans. “We’re getting old, Marinette.”

“Growing old is fine when you’re doing what you love,” she replies. “Speaking of which… how did the students do on the quiz?” Marinette asks. Adrien smiles in spite of himself. She always remembers the little details he mentions off-handedly about his classes. It’s such a classic Marinette trait, but he never fails to be impressed or surprised by it. He shrugs.

“They weren’t happy, but from what I’ve graded, they’re doing well.” 

“Of course they weren’t happy, kids never like quizzes.” Marinette laughs lightly. “I remember Madame Mendeleiev’s quizzes were brutal.”

“Especially when we spent the whole night before chasing down akuma,” Adrien says teasingly.

“ _ I  _ was chasing down akuma,” Marinette corrects, reaching across the table to shove playfully at his shoulder. His heartbeat picks up just a bit, and his grin grows slightly wider. “ _ You _ were busy chasing after Ladybug.”

Ladybug. He thinks of summer nights, wind rushing through his hair, the way the city’s lights glow from a skyscraper’s roof. Deep black hair and sky blue eyes. It’s been over a decade since he first met Plagg, since his life changed forever. The kwami are long gone now, having fulfilled their duties and then some. 

The only constant in the years since has been Marinette. 

“Cats like to chase bugs,” he responds. “You’ve seen little Bugaboo when she catches a fly, haven’t you?”

Marinette makes a face, shaking her head. “I wish I could  _ un _ -see it.”

They talk more through the rest of their lunch, sharing bits of their day so far and plans for the rest of it. They clean up and move to the couch, sitting comfortably side-by-side, and settle into contented silence while resting.

Then they hear hurried steps coming up the stairs. Marinette, drowsy, uncurls herself from the sofa arm, and Adrien turns his gaze away from gazing at her. Sabine ascends into view and steps towards her daughter.

“Have you lost track of time again, Marinette?” she asks, her tone warm and light and full of mirth, as though she’d been laughing before she reached them. “You’re going to be late back to the studio if you don’t leave now.”

Marinette gasps, and Adrien reaches across the table to place his hand reassuringly atop hers. “See you later,” he tells her. She squeezes his hand back, then nods to her mother.

“Thank you, Maman, and Adrien,” she says, and then Adrien feels her hand slip away as she hurries down the stairs. He watches until her high ponytail disappears from his sight, and then he sighs. 

“She’s still exactly the same as she was when she was little,” Sabine says, fondness dripping in her words like honey. “All that’s changed is her hair!”

“And her signature is branded now,” Adrien adds. “Seeing her name on clothing tags always reminds me of the hat she made back in lycée.” He stands, stretching, and smiles at Sabine. “I should head back too.”

“Don’t forget the tart,” Sabine tells him. He nods, gathers his things, shoves his hands back into his coat pockets and against the hand warmers, and treks back across the street to the Collège Françoise Dupont. He delivers the tart to Mylène, who happily takes it from him, no doubt to indulge in on her free period. Adrien drops his coat off in his office, and then gathers his sheet music and heads to the music room. 

His choral students are giggling about something or other when he arrives, and he joins in, obnoxiously tittering until they’ve dissolved into full-blown laughter. They go through their warm-ups, and then Adrien passes out the new scores of music they’ll perform at the next concert. They practice for a bit, then switch to their more familiar songs, and then back. It keeps the students on their toes, and Adrien is more than satisfied with their progress by the time class ends. 

He bids them adieu and heads to the last class he’ll teach that day: band class. His students are bubbly, excited for the nearing end of the school day, but he reels them back in. They practice  _ La Marseillaise  _ and then move on to their concert pieces. They share the upcoming concert with the orchestra, and Adrien goes over the same __ details he did with the other class. They are halfway through perfecting a rhythmic issue when Adrien decides to give them a bit of a break. He stops them for a short rest, and eventually, the class discussion turns to him.

“Monsieur Agreste,” one student asks, “How old are you?” Adrien grins back.

“Too old,” he replies, eliciting chuckles from the students. “I was just talking about that earlier at lunch.”

“You’re not calling your wife old, are you?” One student called from behind a french horn.

Adrien faked a gasp. “Oh, no, I’ve committed a social gaffe!” He winks at them. “Don’t tell her. This is our little secret.” The students laugh and play along, and then Adrien calls them back to assemble. They finally nail the difficult rhythm section, and when the bell rings, Adrien proudly assures them that they’re almost concert-ready.

The next few hours are spent quietly in his office, sorting through homework assignments and grading quizzes and searching for new repertoire. Once he’s had enough of the paperwork, he puts the rest in his briefcase and dresses again for the cold. He heads out after dropping by the staff break room to say goodbye, and sinks into his shoulders as the cold hits him hard. He takes the metro, and walks briskly to his home, a condo tucked into a quieter part of the city. 

Bugaboo greets Adrien as the door closes behind him, meowing loudly, and he picks her up to nuzzle with her. He puts her down to take his scarf and coat off, and grumbles a bit to himself as he sees his gloves discarded on the shelf by the coat rack. He makes a beeline for the comfortable lounge chair set by the window, and practically throws himself onto it, sighing loudly as he settles down. He isn’t Chat anymore, but he’s still just as much the cat, and he decides to bask in the evening sunlight streaming through the window. He only moves to make room for Bugaboo beside him.

Even when Marinette arrives an hour later, he’s still lounging there. 

“Ooh, kittens, how cute!” She calls from the entryway. “Can I join you?”

“Sure,” Adrien replies, voice lazy. But he doesn’t scoot over, and so Marinette sits on him, giggling as he yelps. He concedes defeat after she threatens to lay down entirely, and relinquishes the spot to her. Bugaboo chirps at Marinette, purring and kneading her jeans. Adrien settles down at the piano bench, watching as Marinette pulls the cat to her chest to pet her. 

His fingers start to tickle with an old memory, watching her there, and he turns to face the piano. He plunks out a few chords, tentatively, and then plays a cascading melody, sweet and gentle. It swells into something intimate, then turns to soft and beautiful, receding tenderly to its end. Adrien holds the last chord for just a bit, until he hears the overtones fall into place, and then he lifts his foot from the pedal.

For a few moments, the memory of the last chord echoes in the silence of the room. Then, Marinette speaks, breathlessly.

“That was gorgeous.”

Adrien turns back to look at her.

“Not as gorgeous as you,” he tells her. She holds her arms out to him, and he falls into her embrace. They hold each other close, and then Adrien pulls back to meet her eyes. “I remembered when we became friends, and this just… came to me, I guess.”

“It sounded like raindrops,” Marinette says. “I thought about it, too, when you were playing it.”

They hold each other for a little while longer, but then Bugaboo interrupts them with a whiny meowl, demanding dinner. Giggling, Marinette rises to grab her food, and Adrien stretches, then heads to the kitchen.

His first job, he thinks, was being a superhero. His career now is music, and teaching it to others. But they are both connected by this constant, the anchor to his world, the bridge to his past and present, and she is unspeakably captivating. She’s more than that, but he doesn’t have the words for it. He just knows Marinette is amazing, and her passion for her own career motivates him in his. They are meant for each other, in the same way melodies drip like raindrops, in the same way yin meets yang.

In the same way a cat likes to chase bugs.


End file.
